


Flash Flood

by skarletfyre



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, sort of??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 07:46:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4052041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skarletfyre/pseuds/skarletfyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>tumblr request from <a href="http://queendeedee.tumblr.com">queendeedee</a>: IDK if you take requests but can you write a Spy/Engie fic where the two of them are sharing an inflatable mattress and Engie flops down on it and sends Spy's skinny ass into the stratosphere and Engie starts to panic?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flash Flood

**Author's Note:**

> in an effort to be more organized with my work, i'm posting this old-ish thing from [my blog](http://genuineanger.tumblr.com/post/113940922000) to here

All of the bases were fortresses in their own right. Half didn’t look it, but they were all heavily fortified. Against gunfire and rocket blasts, against snow storms and frigid temperatures in the mountains, against dust storms and tornadoes out on the plains. There were security measures and fail-safes should the worst weather situations come to pass. They were prepared for droughts. They were prepared for heat waves.

But out in the middle of the desert, the last thing any of them were prepared for was a damn flood.

Flash floods were something Engie had heard about but never experienced. He had cousins who’d told stories, but he never quite believed them. Until now, of course. Until he’d opened the door to his basement workshop to find a muddy waterfall pouring down the steps toward him. Until the rainwater had swept through the base, pouring in cracks in the wood, in the open windows, pushing doors open with the force of it. It was like the Heavens themselves had split wide open, dumping the contents of a small lake down on their heads. And then, just as soon as it had started it was over.

But the damage was done.

Pyro was near inconsolable. They and Scout had been lounging in the common room watching midday cartoons when the water burst in and swept the TV away from them, soaking the couch they’d taken refuge on. Heavy, who’d been in the kitchen at the time, let out a cry of anguish heard round the whole base when the muddy storm water swept in to the open refrigerator door.

Demo had dragged a half drowned Sniper inside by the armpits; the Australian had been fixing the suspension of his camper at the time, caught unawares and unprepared by the sudden onslaught of water, occasionally sputtering and coughing in the corner. Soldier was stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, all of his clothing trapped in the now-ruined washing machines. Medic was complaining loudly about the water in his boots, and in his office, and in everything else around them. Spy was soaked to the bone and shivering, perched on the counter top like some great delicate bird, glaring sourly at his soiled cigarette case.

All the furniture was ruined. Their beds were ruined. It was all well and good, trying to get the worst of the water out during the day time when the sun was still beating hot overhead. They all dragged their mattresses outside to dry, but they were all far too damp for comfort by the time the sun started to go down. They were tired, and it was cooling down fast.

Medic was kind enough to offer up his medical gurneys and operating table, all of them tall enough to escape the worst of the water, for his teammates to sleep on. He claimed one for himself, and one was given to Sniper without argument because the man still had an awful rattle in his chest. Soldier claimed another, and Heavy took the table because he thought it was the only thing capable of holding his weight.

Everyone else was shit out of luck.

Demo made a sort of cot thing out of pallets and tarp, which he offered to share with a very gracious Pyro. Spy claimed that he would be fine keeping watch. Scout, who had constructed a highly unstable looking hammock out of a tablecloth and some bungee cords, didn’t argue with him.

But when Engineer revealed that he was in possession of a comfortable, self-heating air mattress, Spy immediately called dibs.

“What happened to keeping watch?” Engie asked, staring down the shivering Frenchman. Spy was working very hard to stop his teeth from chattering and it showed.

“The other t-team is likely in the s-s-same predicament,” he said, clenching his jaw, crossing his arms tight over his chest. “I highly doubt they would at-t-ttempt anything in this condition.”

“I’m not givin’ up my bed for you, Spy,” Engineer told him, more to watch the man squirm than to actually deny him a place to sleep. Spy was rail thin, anyone could see that plain as day from the way his suit clung to him. He looked like a cat that’d slipped into the bathwater. He was obviously cold, but he’d refused the heavy, mostly dry blanket Medic had tried to offer him. A dry, heated bed must’ve sounded like own personal heaven just then.

His lips went white, pressed as tightly together as they were, and for a moment the Engineer thought he’d played it too hard and Spy would end up bedless after all.

“I am not opposed to sharing,” Spy said tightly. Engie fought back the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Which side do you prefer?”

The Frenchman did not deign to answer him. Nor did he help to actually set up the bed, or clear a space for it. There was a good four inches of water left on the floor, but the mattress was thick enough that they didn’t need to worry about that, so long as they didn’t move around too much. As soon as there was enough air pumped in to make it stable, he pounced.

“How long until this thing starts to get warm?” he asked, his voice muffled as he lay face down on its dry, pillowy surface. Engie checked the pump, and then the box with the instructions.

“Give it a couple more minutes. Should kick on automatically. Stay put, I’ll see if I can find us some blankets.”

Spy merely grunted in response. He was clearly exhausted. They were all exhausted, after the day they’d had.

Engie waded his way back down the hall toward the supply closet, every step draining energy out through his submerged feet. His toes were probably all pruned up. If not for things like Respawn and the Medigun he’d be worried about them all getting trench foot. For now, it was just uncomfortable.

Most of the good blankets had already been claimed by the time he got there, but there were a couple left that were big enough to comfortably cover him and Spy. He grabbed them, tucked them under his arm, and waded back toward his workshop.

The trip back took the last of his strength right out of him. The automatic pump had shut itself off, leaving the room calm and dark and quiet. He could see Spy’s outline on the mattress as he splashed over to his tool bench, taking a moment to pry off his soaking boots ans socks and set them up to start drying. After a moment’s hesitation, he shucked off his overalls as well. They were wet all the way to his thighs and would only ruin the dry blankets he’d brought with him. Besides, he was decent beneath them with his shorts and work shirt. He threw them over the back of a chair, took off his goggles and hardhat, and flopped down heavily into bed.

Spy screamed.

It wasn’t til he heard the splash a moment later that the Engineer realised his mistake.

“Aw, hell,” he said, scrambling to his feet. “Spy, I’m sorry, are you al-”

 _“_ _Idiot!”_  Spy cried, accompanied by the sound of sloshing as he got to his feet. “You boorish, ridiculous little man, how could you be so s-”

He was cut off by another splash, which was followed by a streak of curses that Engineer didn’t have to understand to know that they weren’t polite for mixed company. He winced.

“Need a hand?” he offered apologetically. Spy snarled something at him and climbed to his feet unassisted. Engie could hear the water dripping off the man. His teeth started chattering again.

“I wasn’t thinkin’ straight,” Engie said sheepishly. “I’m so used to just fallin’ down at the end of the day, I just- You sure you’re alright?”

“Spare me the details of your bedtime routine,” Spy said coldly, taking off his suit jacket to ring it out. He snorted in disgust and tossed it across the room, where it landed in a sopping heap on top of the Engineer’s boots. He bit his tongue to stop from chastising the Spy. This was his fault, after all, and he was big enough to admit that. But when Spy made to climb back into the bed, shoes and all, he drew a line in the sand.

“Now, hold on there,” he said, holding up a hand. Spy wobbled on one foot and glared at him. “You’re not getting in like that, dripping wet and all. You’ll ruin the blankets.”

“Do you expect me to stand here until I dry?” Spy demanded, holding out his arms for emphasis like some damp, furious scarecrow. Engie quickly backtracked.

“’Course not, but you- Look, will you take off your shoes at least?”

Halfway into his sentence, the Engineer discovered that there was no casual way to suggest to another man that he should take off his clothes before they climbed into bed together. Spy, ever the sharp one, and most likely no stranger to far  _less_  casual suggestions if rumours were to be believed, caught on nonetheless. His frown deepened.

For a tense moment, it seemed like he actually  _was_  considering standing there til he dried. Then, he started to pull off his gloves. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed them across the room toward his jacket. Then he started on his shirt.

Engie dropped his eyes and climbed back onto the air mattress, more gently this time, turning his back on the Frenchmen undressing behind him. He listened to the slick, squelchy sounds of wet fabric sliding off of equally wet flesh, landing with a  _splat_  as shirt and, he assumed, pants were tossed carelessly onto his workbench. When he felt the air mattress dip beside him, he tensed.

Spy said nothing. He grabbed a blanket from the pile between them and pulled it over himself, shifting the bed as he did so. Engie took the other blanket without a word and did the same. He closed his eyes, settled down, and tried to get some sleep.

After a couple minutes, he realised Spy was shivering again.

“You still cold?” he asked quietly. The mattress was warm beneath them, but the blankets were too threadbare to be of much use. Spy tried to say something undoubtedly venomous in response, but all that came out was a sneeze.

Engineer sighed.

“C’mere,” he said, rolling over. He threw part of his blanket over onto Spy and reached out to pull the man toward him. “The two blankets’ll be warmer than just the one.”

“Don’t touch me,” Spy said thickly, but put up only token resistance when Engineer put a hand to his shoulder and rolled him over. He latched onto the second blanket and pulled it over himself.

The distance between them had shortened considerably to allow them both under the blankets, and it was closing by the second as the air pressure beneath them settled out toward the sides of the mattress. Spy practically rolled right into him. That’s when Engineer realized just how cold the man really was.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he chided, reflexively wrapping an arm around the Spy. Spy tensed, then sneezed again. He muttered something that might have been an apology and relaxed. After a long moment, he hummed contentedly.

Despite himself, Engineer grinned.

“Comfy?”

Spy sneezed again.

“I  _hate_  you,” he hissed, burrowing deeper into the warmth of the Engineer’s chest. Engie just chuckled.

“I know, darlin’,” he said, tightening his arms to hold him closer. “I know.”


End file.
